Slightly Touchable
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Filler for Tony and Ziva's surveillance outside the Venezuelan embassy in the S3 ep 'Untouchable.' Not particularly shippy, but not exactly unshippy either. It's on the line.


Disclaimer: NCIS I do not own. Strong with the denials am I. Mmmm.

Spoilers: _Untouchable_. With a pinch of _Frame-Up_ and a dash of _Undercovers_. And a little _Boxed In_. And the briefest hint of _Silver War_ that's barely a spoiler at all. Oh and _Kill Ari II._ What? Just be glad that for once I'm not including _Shalom_. Maybe when the S4 DVDs come out – I say that like I'm not up to date with the iTunes downloads. Yeah, I should include less wine with the fic writing.

Summary: Filler scene for Tony and Ziva sitting in the car outside the Venezuelan Embassy. A little thing that came to me after I got a bit snitty with Tweeter on Special Ops. Looking back, Tweeter was totally right, but I'm ridiculously biased because _Untouchable_ was my first NCIS ep. And now I've written a fic, so I hope she's proud of herself.

* * *

Ziva drummed her fingers impatiently on the bottom of the steering wheel, watching the front entrance of the Venezuelan Embassy for any sign of the man they'd been sent to observe. She was a little dissatisfied with herself that she didn't know more about the political situation, but Moussad had never had many dealings with Venezuela. The NCIS dossier was hardly enlightening. She confined her attention to the traffic coming and going through the front door of the embassy.

She sat up a little straighter as the door opened, but she sank back into her seat as a couple dressed for dinner emerged. "A little early for tuxedoes and cocktail dresses, don't you think?"

Tony took his time turning his head and removing his sunglasses. "Now _that_ is worth being woken up. Ooh, she can wear a cocktail dress any time she wants. Do you see those legs? Yow!"

Ziva raised her binoculars, gratified that she could make out the slightest jiggle in the thigh-area with every step the woman took. She mumbled, "Mine are better."

"Yeah, but you never wear anything that short."

She let the binoculars fall into her lap and waited for Tony to notice the glare she was giving him; she had to wait until the woman in the cocktail dress had disappeared into the back of a black Town Car. "What?"

Although flattered by his prior observation, she opted for a comment on his activity rather than drawing any attention back to her wardrobe. Or legs. "You were really sleeping?"

"I was trying to. You keep interrupting with your running commentary on our Venezuelan buddies."

"I am merely trying to pass the time until Roca appears."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Just look for the guy who looks like that guy from _Lost_."

"Is that some movie?"

"Nope." She didn't have time to be impressed or wonder about his experience with books as he clarified, "TV show."

"Of course."

He took the time to clean his glasses with his shirt before saying, "That was a cheap shot, y'know."

"What? Implying that you can't make an allusion that doesn't involve a movie?"

"Not what I was _alluding_ to. You and your two-cent English words – can't say 'porcupine,' but 'allusion' is no problem." His voice became high-pitched and accented in what she could only assume was meant to be a poor impression of herself. "'Don't tell me you're afraid of a little pussy,' insert deliberate pause, 'Cat.' Real mature."

Their gazes met for a few moments; she was careful not to break the eye contact as she replied, "I guess I was just trying to tease you on a level you'd appreciate."

"I'd call that a low blow, but I suspect you'd just offer to show me exactly what your idea of a low blow would be." He allowed the gibe to sink in before adding, "And yes, you are that predictable. Well, when it comes to the opportunity for violence, anyway."

She chanced a glance at his lap, contemplating the implications of a low blow. Her hand rested on the gearshift in the automatic she drove only out of a lack of other options. Her grip tightened on the knob as she protested, "I'm not violent."

"No, you just like to shoot and stab and hit people." It was obvious he wasn't watching her hand.

"When have you seen me shoot anyone?" She shook her head to clear the image of Ari's corpse from her head. "Or hit them, for that matter?"

"Gibbs might have mentioned that Stewart guy you may have manhandled when it looked like he was framing me for murder." He fiddled with his sunglasses, looking down. "Uh, thanks. For that."

"You're welcome," she answered, feeling as uncomfortable as Tony seemed to be. "We…I just feel like I owed you for that undercover op. I mean, you get the crap beaten out of you and then get sent to prison? You didn't deserve that. And you had taken quite a beating…"

"Not that bad." He touched his nose tenderly as if in remembrance of the incident. "Of course, I had you naked in bed with me not long before that, so I wouldn't call it a total loss." He winked and gave her a grin that made her regret her moment of compassion.

She frowned. "I'm sure being locked in a freezing shipping container cured you of any, eh…"

"Hey, if you were to climb into my lap right now and wiggle a little, I'd be the last person to complain."

"You are such a…a…"

"What?"

"A…_man_!"

He pushed his sunglasses up his nose. "And that's why you love me, baby."

She snorted with derisive laughter, raising her binoculars and refocusing on the entrance of the embassy. She breathed carefully, maintaining a calm, easy rate of respiration and noting that the air in the car was starting to become very stale. Her nose felt funny as it scrunched against the bridge of the binoculars. She decided to open up the conversation again. "You know, I've been thinking, Tony. Remember when we were locked in that container and you told me you used to take piano lessons…"


End file.
